


Casualties of Tickle Fights

by sleepinnude



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:10:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tickle-fights can be dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casualties of Tickle Fights

They’re lying side by side easily. Sam has his head pillowed beneath his folded arms and Kurt is tilted, tipped up on his side and leaning on elbows. His eyes are fixed on Sam’s and Sam is looking back, pretending he’s not grinning, blushing from the attention. He giggles a little, just a quiet rush of air, when Kurt’s hand hovers above his face, flutters lightly to rest on the bridge of his nose. His long fingers brush over his skin like a hummingbird’s touch. He traces from one side of Sam’s nose to the other, mapping over the apex of one cheek, up the temple to toy with the fringe of hair. Exploring fingertips curl around the shell of his ear –pulling a ticklish sound from Sam – drag over the joint of jaw before dropping to explore the notch of his collar.

Sam brings a gentle hand up then, unable to keep them to himself any long. He cups Kurt’s cheek, grinning that soft, lopsided smile of his. Kurt looks up from the dip of skin that had him transfixed to smile back at the boy. “You’re fascinating, you know that?” Kurt says in a hushed tone. Sam’s brow furrows at that, lips quirking incredulously.

“Or maybe you’re just easily entertained,” Sam replies, fingers twitching around Kurt’s earlobe to flicker through his hair.

Kurt grins wide and nods, eyes doing that adorable crinkle. “There is that possibility.”

And then Sam is hefting himself up, turning in and guiding Kurt onto his back, trading their positions. His hand is still at Kurt’s cheek, thumb stroking over the soft skin there. Kurt’s hands jump and flurry at his sides and Sam releases his face for one of the hands. Bringing it up, he kisses the palm. “Hush,” he soothes, breath rushing over the gentle arcing lines. Some of the tension washes off but there’s a lingering stillness in Kurt’s brow and throat.

Sam tends there first, dropping his lips to the pale expanse of Kurt’s neck. His nose is nudging against the sturdy jaw-line as he speaks, lips grazing over Kurt’s skin, “You’re way more interesting.” And his lips track up the side of Kurt’s neck, laying soft, skittering kisses over his jaw, lips, cheeks, eyelids. Until Kurt breaks into laughter, twisting and ducking, trying to relieve himself of the teasing touches.

Sam pulls back, hands on either side of Kurt’s head now to support his weight. “I always forget how ticklish you are, dude,” he says with a fond look. Kurt just watches him carefully, face trained blank because he knows what will come next. Sam’s little smile hitches into a smirk and his eyes shine and Kurt shakes his head in warning but that doesn’t stop him, it never has.

Slinging onto his knees to get a better leverage, Sam pitches his fingers into Kurt’s side, tickling mercilessly. Kurt begins yelping with laughter immediately, writhing and smacking at Sam’s shoulders. “Sam!” he whines out, face high with color.

Sam just laughs and gathers up the other boy’s hands with only minor difficulty, pinning them above his head with one hand. “Nope, c’mon, no fighting back,” he says around his laughter. Holding Kurt’s wrists together with one hand, he goes back to the torture, fingers scuttling over ribs and under his chin and at the small of his back.

“Sammy!” Kurt shouts, out of breath and near tears. “Sammy, stop! Oh my god, Sam, I can’t breathe!” He’s panting and arching but there is a smile on his face and Sam likes that, almost as much as he likes the blocks of blush peaking over Kurt’s cheeks.

“Gonna need the magic word, Kurt,” Sam teases. He coasts two fingertips lightly over Kurt’s collarbone, barely a touch, sending the boy practically spasming beneath him.

“No! Sam, please! Oh my god.” He seems to catch his breath a little, glaring playfully up at the blonde. But he can’t keep the grin from breaking through and his hair is completely wrecked and his appearance is over all disheveled so Sam has to duck in for a kiss. Only to tickle beneath his chin and over his neck without pity.

“Sammy! No,” Kurt drags out. “Sam, let me go! Please! Stop!” The last word is a whine, dragged out to nearly four syllables. “Stop, Sam!”

And they’re so caught up in each other and each other that they don’t hear the clamoring footsteps and the door burst open. But they sure as hell hear Burt Hummel bellowing, “What the hell is going on up here?!”

Sam jumps and jerks away from Kurt so fast that he nearly catches him in the face. Kurt springs up next to him, looking terribly debauched. He stutters out a “Dad!”

Burt’s chest is heaving and his face is set stony and livid. “Off the bed,” he says with no room for argument, pointing at Sam.

Sam obeys immediately, feeling his heartbeat radiating from his toes to his ears. Meanwhile, Kurt’s shock is fading to nonplussed, heaving a sigh. “Oh my god, Dad, seriously? We weren’t doing anything.”

Burt’s eyes flick from Sam to his son and back. “I hear you shouting and sounding damn close to in pain and he’s up here with you… What am I supposed to think?”

Sam can only swallow and will his heartbeat to return to normal. Which isn’t going to happen any time soon, not with Burt Hummel burning his eyes to char with that look. “I’m really sorry, sir,” he manages to say. He clears his throat because that voice was about three octaves higher than his usual. “I… My fault entirely. Kurt… Kurt is really ticklish?” he offers sheepishly, aware of how lame that sounds. “I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t…”

“He wasn’t hurting me, Dad,” Kurt assures his father, equal parts snarky and fond.

And Sam feels so freaking stupid now because, playing back all that Kurt was shouting, of course Burt jumped to that conclusion. “I wasn’t, honest. I would never,” is all he can offer, tacking onto what Kurt said.

Burt doesn’t say anything for a long moment but Sam can see some of the tightly-wound anger within him uncoiling. “Right,” he says out, though there’s still some disbelief in his tone. He coughs out an apology that Sam nearly misses before turning to go. He stops though, just outside the threshold and states over his shoulder, “That door stays wide open.” And with that, he’s heading back down the stairs.

Sam all but collapses onto the bed, letting out the breath he had been holding probably since Burt barged in. “Oh my god. I nearly pissed my pants, dude,” he says, wiping his hands over his face.

Kurt is laughing though and Sam is… Just really? Laughing? He pulls his hands from his face and fixes Kurt with a glare. “Sorry, Sammy. But… How can you not laugh, right?” And then Kurt is laughing more, settling against the headboard. With his hair still mussed and his clothes rumpled and his face red, Sam can’t help but smile and laugh with him.

“And besides,” Kurt says once they’ve both stopped laughing, “now I don’t have to worry about the torment of your tickling anymore.”

And Sam can’t even shove him for that because Burt would probably know somehow and rush up and really skin his ass for it.


End file.
